


Queen of love and beauty

by sternflammenden



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin
Genre: F/M, Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-08
Updated: 2012-10-08
Packaged: 2017-11-15 22:14:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 454
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/532348
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sternflammenden/pseuds/sternflammenden
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Walda prefers Roose Bolton to any storybook knight.  Just R/W fluff.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Queen of love and beauty

They’d put the crown of flowers on her head as a joke, but Walda didn’t care. She’d been far too excited for the tourney, excited to be Lady Bolton, sitting next to her lord in the stands, clutching his arm tightly when the combatants had a close call. Walda wasn’t enthralled by bloodshed but there was something exhilarating about watching them battle it out on the sand before her, and although she kept silent aside from cheers and the occasional gasp, her cheeks burned and her heart was in her throat. 

That night, she allowed her new husband to unbind her hair, his clever fingers smoothing her fine hair, free from its confining braids, picking errant petals from it as he ran his hands through its length. Roose stared at her, eyes locked on hers, a slight smile on his usually blank features at the sight of his lady wife so undone. The smile broadened as Walda’s hands found his, placing them firmly on her bodice.

“Well. Aren’t you going to unlace me?” 

Roose obliged, working his hands inside of the rich pink fabric, her new wedding trousseau, clutching her breasts with cold fingers. She didn’t shudder or pull away from his touch, but closed her eyes, lips parting slightly as he pulled the gown off of her body and permitted it to slide to the floor. She shuddered from the sensation as it brushed against her skin, and moved closer to her husband, her arms going around his neck, her lips brushing his.

Walda sighed as Roose returned her embrace, pulling her into his arms. 

“Do you ever ride in the lists?” she murmured in his ear. 

“Far too risky,” he whispered, leaning back slightly as she undid the clasps on his clothing. 

“So you’ll never wear my favor?” Walda bent, her cheek resting against his bare chest, his hands in her hair again. 

“Likely as not,” Roose replied, biting his lip when she took him in her mouth, pulling the blonde locks that he clutched in his fingers, but not too tight. 

And when she reclined after the act, her lord husband curled against her, Walda realized that she didn’t care about such nonsense. For the young knights at the tourney had laughed at her when their champion had bedecked her with roses, and her lord husband had merely pressed her hand to his lips. And at the feast, it was her lord who had proffered the choicest bits to her, watching her indulge with a benign expression instead of a mocking one. And now, he slept so close, an arm heavy on her waist, his breath steady and even on the back of her neck. What was chivalry compared to this?


End file.
